Blurb:
“I hate that I love
you,” she said. “You left me.” “I lost you, there’s a difference. Now that I
found you, I intend to keep you.” Lost. I’d tasted the sweetest fruit of
temptation, and I wanted another bite. I had promised myself before, but once
wasn’t enough. The savory flavor of her lingered long after I’d lost her.
Contending with the pressure to return to the fight, in order to prove myself
to my father and the world, I had to let her go. Found. It has been a year.
Sofie Vincentia and I had played a dangerous game. For one night, we pretended,
only to discover our farce was real. I’d lost her, but I hadn’t stopped
searching, hoping for her return. I was used to getting what I wanted, so when
she didn’t come to me, I had to go after her. This would be the greatest fight
of my life.
THIS IS A STANDALONE.
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Exclusive Excerpt
Post
- Fight
Cain
The
sound of her heels, retreating from me, echoed down the hallway in the opposite
direction of the gathered crowd. I was still dressed for the fight. I’d rubbed
a towel down my body, as I didn’t care to change or shower yet. I needed to get
to her before she escaped me again. Following behind the click of her heels, I
called her name a second time, commanding her to stop. She didn’t listen. For
the slightest second, it sounded like the tapping on the tile increased. I sped
up my pace, determined to catch her.
“Sofie,”
I called out. The tension built. She was going to run. My hand reached out for
her, as I drew closer. My stride lengthened. Her tight skirt curved over her
hips, holding her snug ass, and trapping her steps. High heels prevented her
from moving any faster, despite her determined hustle. This wasn’t how I
remembered her dressing. She wore loose skirts and fitted t-shirts, except on
the second night. An image of a black dress being removed from delicate
shoulders flitted through my memory. My eyes fell to her ass again, recalling what
was under that shapely skirt. I’d seen it, felt it, tasted it, and I wanted it
again.
“Sofie,”
I demanded. Her name was more than a plea; it was a command to stop. We were
headed in a circle. The sound of the gathered crowd was echoing back toward us.
She was trapped. If she kept going, she’d lead us directly into the paparazzi
pit. Cameras would capture her and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to explain
who she was to the public. Not yet. I needed a private reunion first.
Her
pace slowed. My outstretched fingers captured her upper arm and tugged her to a
halt. Her body was gently slammed against the cement block wall behind her, and
my arms caged her in.
“Sofie.”
My breath caught as I scanned her face. Bright blue eyes under a pinched brow
looked briefly at me, then avoided my gaze. Her face was flushed. I remembered
that pink skin. Another vision flashed in my memory of her questioning me over
a wooden wine bar. She was interested in my anatomy at that moment. I wanted
her to be interested in my anatomy again. A certain part of me definitely had
her attention, if she wished for it. I wasn’t only hard; I was towering
straight out for her. My dick knew what it wanted. It was drawn to the lyrical
whispers of what I assumed would be wet folds beneath black panties.
Another
vision flashed through my mind. This included stripping her of black lingerie:
simple, satin, and molded to the shape of her. I’d never seen anything so
tempting, until she was removed of it. White skin, pink nipples, and a dark
mound pointing to a treasure were the most beautiful colors I’d ever seen, next
to her eyes, which were glaring at me as I assessed her face.
“Cain,”
she said sharply. Her head lifted, holding it high; she was pissed. There was
no other way to describe her expression. She hated me. I couldn’t exactly blame
her, but it wasn’t the reunion I anticipated. It wasn’t the reunion I expected.
It wasn’t the reunion I was going to accept.
“My
sweet temptation,” I hissed to her. My tongue licked my lips, eager to taste
hers. She swallowed, and my eyes widened at the smooth roll of her skin against
her throat. My hand slipped up to her shoulder and my pelvis fell forward, instinct
drawing my dick to her. I flinched uncontrollably as it hit her lower abdomen.
It craved some place lower on her body.
She
didn’t push me away. In fact, her hands were splayed against the cool cement
behind her. Her eyes shone bright beyond those tempting red glasses, and bright
red lips matched, sucking in air at the invasion of my body against hers. I
wanted those lips to suck somewhere else. She’d done it before. I knew how
sweet she could be, but her eyes were harder now. Those lips wanted nothing to
do with any part of my body.
My
hand continued to travel up the tender skin of her throat, and she swallowed
hard again, trembling beneath my touch. She wasn’t repulsed by me, but she was
frightened. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but she needed to be
concerned. If my father found her, there would be trouble like she’d never
known before. Her sweetness did not understand the depths of evil associated
with me.
“Don’t
touch me,” she growled.
On
second thought, perhaps she did.
My
hand slipped into her chestnut locks and tugged gently, but enough to remind
her that I was a strong man. I wouldn’t hurt her. In fact, I was certain I
hadn’t hurt her in the past. I was the one that suffered.
“One
night, you longed for my touch,” I whispered harshly, drawing my mouth closer
to hers. “In fact, I remember someone sweetly asking for it.”
My
hands slithered in opposite directions. One surveyed the hilly swells of side
breast while the other travelled the valley of her abdomen until it rose over
curvy hips. I gripped a fist full of material and tugged it upward, jostling
her body with the rough hitch of her skirt.
“If
I remember correctly, you wanted me,” I purred against her moist skin. Her fear
produced a sheen of sweat that covered her face. My nose dragged along her jaw,
then dipped down her neck. Holding herself still, her hands remained flat
against the wall to her sides. My hips pinned her in place as the skirt rose.
My
fingers graced the soft skin of her thigh. She flinched and I pressed firmly
forward. There was no doubt of my excitement. Dressed only in my fighting
shorts, my bare chest brushed close to her generous breasts, which had been
covered with my hands and mouth in the past. I wanted to reenact those
memories, but my fingers had other intentions. In a jagged drag of skin against
skin, I gripped her thigh, climbing upward, heading for the fruit of my desire.
“Do
you still want me?” I whispered into her neck. “Do you remember?” I groaned as
a thick digit delved through the warm moisture of folded skin, ripe for what I
intended. I wanted inside her. Damp with desire, I slipped aggressively into
her. I demanded she remember as I added a second finger. Her breath hitched as
she moaned and heavy lids closed.
“Look
at me,” I commanded. My forehead almost rested on hers, but I held back enough
to stare into her eyes. I wanted her to see me, remember me, remember what I’d
done to her. How she felt under me, wrapped within her. I grunted as my dick
flinched, my skin too tight. This temptress had to recall what she had done to
me, as well. I was going to come undone being this close to her, and yet she
was so far away.
Blue
eyes pierced mine, but they still contained a softness within them. I didn’t
want to believe my sweet temptation could rot. She was spoiled by me, but she
wasn’t ruined. She was stronger than that.
“Do
you remember?” My fingers increased their exploration. It was a renewed
excavation. They rediscovered what they missed. Sliding in and out, she joined
my pace. Her hips moved slowly, then increased, matching the beat inside her.
“That’s
it, my sweet.” I pulled back to watch her lids droop, then fight to open wide.
“Good girl,” I rasped, as I brushed back a stray hair but didn’t falter in my
rhythm between her legs. Her hands released from the wall. Palms flattened
against my shoulders then wrapped around them as best they could. She had
delicate hands. Tender and gentle. They had teased as she had tugged me and
stroked me the first time. I jolted and my hips pressed toward her, but my hand
was the focus. Her fingers dug into bare skin covered in tattoos of the snake I
was. Sharp, blunt nails soon pinched into me as her hips rolled and her
luscious center rocked.
“I
want you to remember,” I commanded. “Remember where I’ve been. Who I am.” My
fingers took on a life of their own, and they worked hard, digging deeper into
the tender cavern of warmth, wet and ready for me. My thumb flicked over the
sensitive pearl outside of her. Her breath hitched. Nails gripped into hard
skin. She didn’t have claws, not my girl, but she was latching onto me. That’s
exactly what I wanted.
“Tell
me you didn’t forget,” I whispered, my voice dropping as my pace continued. She
didn’t answer me and I stopped. The blue rivers turned to ice as she glared at
me. I was the devil. And I would break this reunion, if she didn’t play my
game.
She
shook her head, refusing to speak. I pulled out of her quickly, feeling the
release of her juices as they slid down her leg. Her eyes narrowed only
slightly. Then she said my name. It was hardly more than a squeak, a meek plea,
an unanswered question. Her nails slowly released me. Fingers peeled upward
from my skin. I was going to lose her.
Fingers
slammed into her and her head gently fell back. She sucked in a harsh breath,
as I demanded her recollection without words. I wanted her to relive the memory
of what I had done to her. Only me.
I
worked fast and her fingers lay back against my warm skin. Nails made tender
impressions on my shoulder. She could mark me. I wouldn’t care. She’d already
scarred my heart.
“Cain?”
she questioned, but I knew the answer. She was ready to burst. Her tender fruit
had been plucked and she craved what came next. That first bite. The sound of
my name almost undid me, but it would take more than that for me to be
satisfied. For her, the flick of my thumb unleashed her. Nails burrowed deep,
her eyes shuddered closed, and her head tipped back. She clenched hard,
squeezing my hand between her thighs. My dick practically danced, but I had
been the king of denial. I would not have her yet. This was only a reminder.
As
my attention slowed, and I spread fingers through folds so wet they wept, my
forehead came to hers.
“Tell
me you remember?” I pleaded. My heart fell to my stomach as I held my breath.
“I
don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”
I
pulled back in surprise, my eyes widened. My expression had to betray a strange
sense of glee.
“I’ll
never forget,” she whispered, averting her eyes as she looked down at her
raised skirt and my retreating hand. She pushed the material downward hastily
then shoved my wrist away from her.
“I’ll
never forget…that you’re an asshole.” Propelled backward as she braced against
my chest, I stumbled in surprise at her use of profanity. My girl didn’t swear,
but the venom in her voice proved she’d changed. My sweet temptation was
tainted by the poison of me. What I’d done to her. I let her escape as her
words sliced through me. I was an asshole.
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About the Author
I'd
love to say I've written for 10,000 hours, and that makes me a pro. But I can't
say that. What I can say is I had a story in my head that wouldn't go away. I
thought typing it in my computer would be the end of things, but it only led to
another story and another. I love reading, so characters in my head isn't
something new. What is new is my creation of them. Hope you enjoy my favorites
as much as I do. Happy reading!
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